Our house is astonishingly quiet – even the sixty-cycle hum is barely audible.
Our house has wood floors in the great room, with just enough scratches already on them that you don’t have to be always worrying.
Our house has places to be alone and places to hang out together.
Our house has my books and our pictures in it!
Our house has my library table in it, which currently has a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle spread out with plenty of room to work.
Our house has our very own bed.
Our house has enough light, both day and night.
Our house has four skylights and three fireplaces.
Our house has trees or water outside every window.
Our house has potential to be even better. (We’re talking about a heater on the deck, for one thing.)
Our house has our wedding picture, and also my grandparents’.
Our house has a ping-pong table and enough room to play.
Our house has stairs that aren’t trying to kill us (unlike our Dutch flat).
Our house has a light fixture in the dining room that makes me smile (copper and art glass).
Our house has the stained glass panel someone gave us as a wedding present, with the Beast on it (our first cat, all black and most beloved, who died of old age not long before we moved abroad).
Our house has the glass kaleidoscope my uncle gave us for a wedding present, along with other objects we love given by people who are still around and the souvenirs of our travels.
Our house has places for our stuff.
Our house has room for friends to stay.

Now if only we can figure out how to live here without having to wait for retirement!